


Clarity

by ember_firedrake



Series: Taking Down Barriers [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Butt Plugs, Claiming, Crossdressing, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Subspace, subjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has trouble sometimes asking for the things that he wants. It's much easier to just show Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

This was a great idea.

To be fair, Enjolras has had it planned for some weeks, forced to resort to his imagination as summer wound down. He can't forget how this had started, with red lace and Grantaire's devious texting. There hadn't been time before the semester ended to revisit that properly, and Enjolras has spent plenty of time thinking about how this would go when classes began again in the fall.

That being, Grantaire stunned into silence as he takes in the wine-dark red dress that falls to Enjolras' knees. The thin straps that leave his neck and shoulders bare, the tapering lines from the torso to the waist. The heeled shoes and dark stockings that are secured by a garter belt at his waist. Not that Grantaire can see that yet, of course, or the fact that Enjolras had foregone any other underwear in the interest of accessibility. 

Grantaire also doesn't know yet about the other surprise. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision for Enjolras. Well, not _quite_ —he'd made the internet purchase a couple weeks back—but it had been impulse that made him decide today would be perfect for it.

This was a _fantastic_ idea, he mentally amends, as Grantaire kisses him, pressing him back against the wall. Grantaire's hands are everywhere, thumb stroking over Enjolras' cheek where he'd dusted it with blush. Fingers skate over his sides, and the silky material of the dress is just as much of a turn-on as Grantaire's manhandling of him. Enjolras groans, head tilting back as one of those hands runs calloused fingers under the skirt.

"Can't believe you—" Grantaire rasps out, drawing his face back. His mouth is smudged with traces of red from Enjolras' lipstick, and though he seems to barely be holding himself in check, he's regarding Enjolras with an awed expression.

Grantaire's hand reaches the top of his thigh under the skirt, and he draws in a sharp breath at Enjolras' lack of underwear. He grips Enjolras in a loose hold, glancing down where a spot of moisture has soaked through the thin material. 

"You like it, then?" Enjolras asks, trying for casual though he feels anything but.

He's felt strung-out for more than an hour now, waiting for Grantaire to return from his class, and he lets out a breathy gasp as Grantaire draws a hand slowly up the length of him. 

"I think the answer to that question should be obvious," Grantaire says, as he traces the head of Enjolras' cock with his thumb.

Enjolras sags against the wall further, spreading his legs as much as he's able while still remaining standing. It's such an obscene display, under any other circumstances he'd feel self-conscious about it. But their relationship, new though it is, has taught him not to feel shame for the things he likes. Not here, not with Grantaire leaning forward again, sliding his knee between the folds of the skirt to help support Enjolras. Grantaire's other hand cradles Enjolras' jaw, tilting it to the side as Grantaire presses open-mouthed kisses along the junction of Enjolras' neck and collarbone. 

Enjolras hitches a leg around Grantaire's hip, a clear invitation, and Grantaire releases his cock to move lower, further back until…

Grantaire goes suddenly still, and Enjolras grins. He hitches his hips, just a little, and asks in his most innocent tone, "Is something the matter?"

" _You_ —"

Enjolras hitches his hips again, so Grantaire's fingers come once more into contact with the flared base of the butt plug. "Me?"

A shudder seems to pass through Grantaire, and he buries his face into the side of Enjolras' neck for a moment, biting and sucking and probably creating a bruise that will be there in the morning, while he takes hold of the flared base of the plug and tugs on it. The movement is just enough to stimulate Enjolras' over-sensitized nerves, and he lets out a keening whine.

Grantaire repeats the gesture—pumping the plug slowly in an out—while Enjolras grips tightly at Grantaire's sides. It takes him a moment to realize Grantaire is whispering filth into the shell of his ear. 

"Is this what you wanted? Taken against a wall, no preamble? You couldn't wait for me to prep you, so you decided you'd do it yourself? _Fuck_ …how many fingers did you get?"

" _Three_ ," Enjolras grates out, and just that syllable is an effort from the effect Grantaire's words and actions are having upon him. 

Grantaire's hand on Enjolras' jaw moves, the first two fingers trailing across his lips. Enjolras doesn't even hesitate, he opens his mouth to admit the fingers, moaning around them as they repeat the thrusting rhythm of Grantaire's other hand. 

" _Three_ ," Grantaire repeats the word back to him like a litany. "I can see it now. Laying back on your bed. Coating your fingers and starting to prepare yourself. It's not enough…not the same as when I spread you open for me. You can't get quite as deep when it's just you."

Enjolras makes an affirmative noise, nodding as well as he's able. He hardly cares, not when his mouth is otherwise occupied. He loves this, feeling _taken_. 

Grantaire, encouraged, continues, "Or maybe you'd lie on your front, ass in the air? Better reach that way. Easier to imagine me behind you. You'd start with one. By now you're so used to me that'd be easy, just a single finger in and out, slicking yourself. Two…now that might be more difficult. The angle is awkward…it's a little more uncomfortable. But you'd be determined. You'd bite down on your bottom lip—that's why it's so full, isn't it?—as you continued."

It's all Enjolras can do not to whine desperately around the fingers in his mouth. Grantaire thrusts the plug in again, and it brushes his prostate. 

"A third would be the hardest. Not because you haven't taken it before, but because it's different when you're doing it to yourself. It's harder to stay relaxed. But you'd know you have to. You'd need to make yourself as slick and as open as possible."

_Yes_ , Enjolras wants to say. He sucks hard on the fingers in his mouth. _Yes, I wanted that—I needed that._

Grantaire leans, if possible, even closer. His chest is flush against Enjolras' torso, and it's all Enjolras can do not to hitch a breath at the feel of the dress brushing against his tight nipples. The fingers are still in his mouth, however, thrusting down against his tongue and muffling his reaction. Grantaire nips at an earlobe as his other hand, occupied at the base of the plug, thrusts it deep again. His voice is low and harsh as he asks, "You think it was sufficient? Did you _prepare yourself_ enough for me that I could pull this out and fuck you without any more lube than what you've already allowed yourself? Are you sure you're ready?"

Enjolras' lips feel swollen as the fingers withdraw. " _Yes_ ," he says once he's regained his breath. "It was enough, I'm ready. _Please_ —please fuck me. I'm _ready._ "

Grantaire is looking at him intently now, his hand on the base of the plug gone still. His pupils are wide, ringed with the barest hint of blue. He draws back, hands going to the straining front of his jeans as he releases button and zipper, lowering them along with underwear until his hard cock is freed. "Well I'm not," he says, still not breaking eye contact. "Suck me. Get my cock ready for you, because that’s the only other lubrication you're going to get." 

His voice is all unwavering confidence, but there's the slightest flicker in Grantaire's eye—worry that he might have pushed things too far. Enjolras is quick to set his mind at ease, giving a reassuring smile and squeezing Grantaire's hand twice. The gesture is returned, and with that leave to continue, Enjolras sinks to his knees. He wobbles a little, unsteady in the heels, and he's certain he's going to create runs in the stockings, but Grantaire's cock is in front of him and there's nothing he wants more at that moment. 

"Go on," Grantaire says, cupping the back of Enjolras' head in a loose hold but not forcing him forward. 

Enjolras doesn't need further invitation. He relaxes his jaw, taking in as much of Grantaire's length as he can. It's easy to lose himself in this, in the weight of Grantaire on his tongue and the heady scent of him as Enjolras' nose brushes the hairs on Grantaire's navel. He has a task set before him, however, and if he allows himself to get carried away this will be over before he reaches the part he is truly anticipating. 

Enjolras moans, bobbing his head as he strives to make sure Grantaire's cock is as slick as possible. Even when it reaches that point, he remains on his knees a little longer, laving his tongue up and down the length of it. Grantaire's cock is leaking precome and it tastes _so good_ , Enjolras doesn't want to stop. 

But then Grantaire's fingers are tightening in his hair and pulling him back, and Enjolras hisses but complies. He's done it, he did what Grantaire asked, and he's reaping the rewards now as Grantaire pulls him up with a muttered, " _Fuck,_ any longer and I'd be gone. You really love that, don't you?"

Enjolras can only nod, jaw aching and knees sore. Once he might have felt shame at that, the thrill he gets from having his mouth used like this…the taste of it, the way his throat will sometimes feel sore for days afterwards. He feels no shame now, hasn't felt anything akin to shame in months.

Grantaire turns him, pushing Enjolras against the wall. Enjolras wobbles a moment on the heeled shoes, hands gripping the smooth surface of the wall as best he can, and for a moment he has a flash of memory, of being shoved up against the door in this manner last semester. When Grantaire had dragged red lace down and leaned in and—

The similarities stop there, except for the theme of his attire. Grantaire pushes the skirt up, exposing his ass, grips the flared base of the plug and draws it out. Rather than drop it on the floor, Grantaire sets it on a clear space of the nearby desk. Enjolras, on-edge from the teasing thrusts of earlier, has barely a moment to lament the loss before the head of Grantaire's cock is there, pushing in with one thrust. He keens high in his throat, scrabbling for a moment at the wall before the pads of his fingers provide enough traction to gain purchase as he tries to bear down on the insistent pressure. 

Grantaire's hands are on his hips, gripping tight enough to bruise. He nudges Enjolras' legs with his feet, until Enjolras is braced with his ass out and legs apart, balanced on heeled shoes. The only thing truly keeping him up is Grantaire, who moves one of his hands to cover Enjolras' on the wall, pinning it as he begins thrusting with his hips. 

The angle makes Enjolras whimper, head falling until his forehead rests against the wall. His breathing is labored from the effort to remain standing, unaccustomed to the heels and unable to bear further down. He can do nothing but take it, and Grantaire's pace is relentless, thrusting into him again and again. This is what Enjolras wanted, though. This was his aim when he planned to surprise Grantaire. Not quite ready to put those desires into words, he had let his actions speak for themselves, and Grantaire understood what he wanted. _Needed._

Enjolras loses himself for a time in that rhythm, mindless even to his own erection, flushed and aching and rubbing against the material of the dress. So focused is he, it takes him a moment to realize Grantaire is speaking, murmuring words against the column of his spine where the back of the dress meets skin. 

"—you're beautiful, Enjolras. Always beautiful, but like this..." He punctuates his words with another thrust, slower this time. Deeper. "Can't believe you did this. The dress, the plug, everything. _Trusting_ me like this, you—why me?"

It takes Enjolras a few seconds to work out what it is Grantaire means. His own mind seems lost in a haze of pleasure from the slow drag of the cock in his ass, but he forces himself to focus on Grantaire's words. It's a surprise to Enjolras, after all the work he's done on deconstructing his own self-conscious insecurities, that Grantaire still harbors doubts about their relationship. 

Enjolras turns his head, kisses Grantaire's knuckles where they cover his own, and says, "You see me."

It's more than that, of course. And not in the way everyone else sees him, as a student or their peer or as a man who could lead others one day. Grantaire sees all of that, but also what Enjolras keeps hidden, unable to share. Except with someone he trusts. And there's more to that in the back of Enjolras' mind, feelings he can't yet put words to. He'll talk that over with Grantaire later, to make sure he understands just how much this means for both of them. 

For now, though, that response is enough, as Grantaire groans, burying his face between Enjolras' shoulder blades. He thrusts twice more before going still, cock spilling deep within. Enjolras' legs wobble, and it's all he can do to remain standing when Grantaire's hand on his hip moves, reaching around to catch his erection, still covered by the dress. Grantaire grips him through the material, forming a loose hold as he pumps his hand. 

It doesn't take long. Enjolras hadn't realized how close he actually was, and the drag of silky material and Grantaire's calloused grip is enough to have him gasping, shuddering as he comes. 

"Beautiful," Grantaire whispers.

In spite of the discomfort of their positions, they remain that way for several drawn-out moments. Enjolras hardly notices the aches and twinges of pain. He feels like he's floating, high on endorphins and a warmth that seems to be more mental than physical. It's as if his world has narrowed, his awareness honed down to the feel of Grantaire against his back and the dizzying rush of his orgasm.

"Enjolras," Grantaire says, drawing him gently from his lull. He can't tell how long it's been. 

"Hmmm?"

"How are you?"

Grantaire is still inside him, Enjolras realizes. No longer erect, but there—the knowledge makes him flush. "Good," he breathes. "I'm good."

"I'm going to pull out now, but I want to put the plug back in. Is that okay?"

Enjolras' cock twitches in a valiant effort to get hard again. " _Yes_ ," he says, not even caring how eager he sounds. He can't even articulate why he wants it so much, just that he loves the idea of Grantaire marking him, filling him, and his release remaining within Enjolras until Grantaire wants to take him again. He tries to withhold his gasp as Grantaire withdraws, and he feels the tapering length of the plug press in again. 

"We should rest," Grantaire says, forehead nuzzling between Enjolras' shoulder blades. "Get a couple hours of sleep. Maybe a bite to eat. Then—" he nips lightly at the skin "—I'll fuck you again."

Enjolras hums his approval and rolls his hips back to show Grantaire just how much he likes this plan. He's having difficulty forming coherent sentences, he can be forgiven that. 

Enjolras feels half in a daze still as he's turned around. Grantaire undresses him, taking his time with the zipper of the dress and the straps on his shoulders. The dress pools at his ankles, and Grantaire helps him step out of that and his shoes, before easing him over to the bed. Grantaire strips in more efficient movements, then curls against his side, a sheet drawn up to their waists. 

Enjolras is drifting to sleep when he hears Grantaire say, almost inaudibly, "You see me too."


End file.
